Worth While
by Villageidiot54
Summary: My little view of Bart Simpson. Has mention of drug abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicide. Please review...just please don't flame! You can use your opinion just don't overuse it!


I was never the perfect child. Many hated me; I hated many. I really don't understand how I got the way I was. I was the rebel, the one who broke rules, made innocent people cry, made people clean eggs out of their mailboxes. School, I hated school. I knew I would never use the stuff in life, I mean they only taught us that kind of stuff to bore us. I would never use math, or science is a career. I would never have a career. I knew I was going to be a carefree child forever. But those days ended fast; soon I was walking into the middle school. I was in detention twice a week, in I.S.S once a month. I didn't care; wow they gave me detention. Like that was new. I knew it hurt my family to see me that way, but I didn't care. Nothing bothered me, nothing. I never got into real trouble; sure I did some juvenile things, but I also ended up in Juvenile Detention a couple of times. I knew every cop by name, every ally where you could buy drugs, or bootlegged videos. But I didn't buy the stuff; I got it off of friends. I really didn't want to get into buying the stuff, or addicted to it, but that all ended by tenth grade. Then I walked into high school doors. Yet again, I knew it would be an easy three years; teachers would pass me so they'd never have to deal with me again. I would never tell anyone but it kind of hurt to know I was hated that much. I took that depression and led to drugs. Sure I did drugs for fun too, but I suffered from depression, a depression no one knew about. How could anyone tell? I had my little group of friends; I didn't talk to hardly anyone else. Drugs led me to real trouble; I had serious thoughts of suicide. I tried it to, but never told anyone…why should I? They hated me. By twelfth grade I was getting nervous. They were pressuring us about our future; I had no idea what I was going to do. I never paid attention… the only thing I knew was that I was hated, and where my "friends" could be bought. Yet again scared about the future, I went to drugs and alcohol. My family and actual friends got worried about me; I was wasting my life. I wouldn't admit it though, why should I? I knew my real friends, my comfort friends. Finally I graduated, I will always remember the looks on my family's face when I received my diploma, I will never forget the guilt I felt receiving my diploma. I knew I didn't earn it; I only got it because my teachers hated. My friends who started to shape up went off to college. I stayed back home, got a minimum wage job at McDonald's and rented an apartment. I had a new girlfriend every week, I was doing drugs every night, and I wanted to change. Deep down, I knew I could do better, deep down I knew. But how? I kept asking myself, but how? I ended up getting fired and out on the streets. I would check into loony bins just for the night when it was cold. They wouldn't know where I lived, so I got showers, clean clothes, and a good meal everyday. I didn't stop with the drugs. One day I found twenty dollars and bought a lottery ticket. I ended up winning twenty million. I found my best friend from high school and partied with him. I wanted to party all the time, but he refused. He had a family now, and he told me he was ashamed with me. He told me how he was exactly like me in high school, but he changed his ways and had something to be proud of. Of course I pretended it didn't hurt me in anyway and just went on with my rich life. I received a call from my mother one-day saying she wanted to see me again. Of course I went; it was my Mom. She looked at me for two seconds, and was immediately disappointed. She thought I changed, she really thought I changed. We got into a big fight, and then I left. When I got home, I did heavy drugs and drank strong alcohol for seven hours straight. That's the day I died. But what hurts more is not the fact I killed myself… it is the fact that I was never the perfect child, I never even tried to be. And in my self-pity and jealousy I hurt people that I didn't even know cared about me. I never realized until watching my funeral how many people loved me, and how many people just wanted me to change… they couldn't bear to see me the way I was. I feel so bad that I cannot tell them I am sorry… I want too more than anything. But I screwed up, and I hope this will never happen to anyone else.  
  
~hey I usually write for the show Providence, but I thought I could attempt a Simpson fic. In case you haven't noticed this is about Bart Simpson. Please don't flame… you can criticize all you want, but no flames. I was in a different mood that day. I wrote this is at least 45 minutes. I could kind of see this happening to Bart but in a way I can't. Oh well. Please review, no flames!~ 


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